How Wild Should Drakes Estero Be?

How Wild Should Drakes Estero Be?

Jacoba Charles

A stunning, multi-fingered inlet called Drakes Estero lies on the coast of the Point Reyes National Seashore. This sparkling bay on the San Francisco estuary’s outer ocean coast is the home of raptors, seals, beds of eelgrass—and also a 70-year-old oyster farm.

It’s a bucolic scene, but beneath the beauty lurks a deeply-rooted bone of contention. For nearly a decade, the future of the Drake’s Bay Oyster Company (DBOC) has been at the heart of a heated battle between fans of wilderness and advocates of sustainable agriculture. Last November, Secretary of the Department of the Interior Ken Salazar decided not to renew the farm’s lease; now oyster advocates are suing the Department, which manages the National Park system, for the farm’s right to remain open.

The oyster operation, which has been open since the 1930s, is one of 17 historic farms and ranches that have operated under lease since the park bought them in 1962. The waters of the Estero, where the bivalves are grown on wooden racks, were declared a potential wilderness area in 1976. With Salazar’s decision to close the business, the inlet joined Abbotts Lagoon and Estero di Limantour to become the third aquatic wilderness within the Point Reyes National Seashore. But the farm’s owners have been fighting for a delay, arguing that the historic farm is valuable in its own right and ought to be preserved.

“I liken it to a boundary dispute,” says John Hart, author of a recent book on the history of the Point Reyes National Seashore. “There is a part of Point Reyes that is pretty definitely slated to remain in agriculture, and there is a part that is already in the wilderness system. This is an area that is perched in between and has aspects of both—the question is, which way is it going to tip.”

The basic debate that went from the local level to the highest halls of government was over a simple question: does the law require the Estero to revert to wilderness immediately upon cessation of the oyster farm’s lease in 2012, or can its operation be permitted to continue? Environmental organizations including the Sierra Club, the National Wildlife Federation, and the local Environmental Action Committee of West Marin argued that it couldn’t.

These advocates for immediate wilderness status fear that continuation of the farm sets a precedent for private industry to expand in wilderness areas. They also worry that the oyster farm boats disturb wildlife and habitat, and degrade the environment with debris and non-native species— namely the oysters themselves, and an widespread invasive tunicate whose only habitat in the Estero is the hard surfaces of the oyster shells and racks.

An eclectic group of supporters — including Senator Dianne Feinstein, chef Alice Waters, the county Board of Supervisors, and the three former Congressmen who originally helped draft the bill—assert that the law doesn’t demand closure of the business. They say that the benefits of the farm, which provides jobs, a recreational destination, and over 30 percent of the oysters grown in California, outweigh those of immediate wilderness status. Some supporters also fear that if the Estero is converted to wilderness, then the historic dairy ranches in the same watershed also could be closed down in the future.

Complicating the debate has been the question of whether the farm has caused any significant environmental damage. Beginning in 2006, National Park Service scientists claimed their data showed impacts. But this was denied by the farm’s owner, Kevin Lunny, and by local scientist Corey Goodman who accused the park of scientific misconduct. Multiple investigations ensued, including by the National Academy of Science, the Department of the Interior and its Office of the Inspector General. No official scientific misconduct was found, though “administrative misconduct” was. One report concluded that “in several instances the agency selectively presented, over-interpreted, or misrepresented” the available data. Another reported that NPS staff had deliberately withheld information from the public, but that there was no evidence the farm owners were being treated unfairly.

The February decision by a California appeals court seemed to echo those conclusions, in a decision to allow the oyster farm to remain open past the date set by secretary Salazar, until the court hears their case. The decision was made because “there are serious legal questions and the balance of hardships tips sharply in [the oyster farm’s] favor.”

Meanwhile, also in February the Coastal Commission issued orders that the farm take immediate steps to come into compliance with state coastal laws.

At press time in late March, Congressional Republicans were proposing to include an extension of the oyster farm’s lease in a draft energy bill that also includes oil drilling off the US coast and in the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge, and would expedite the Keystone XL pipeline. The bill is not expected to pass the Senate. Workers sort oysters at the Drake’s Bay Oyster Farm.

Today, stakeholders and bystanders are waiting for the courts to review the case in May. Many stand to be disappointed, however the decision tips.

“Personally, my hunch is that Drakes Estero will be in pretty good shape whichever way it goes,” says Hart. “It won’t be the end of the world for the farm community if the oyster farm has to go. Nor would it be the end of the world for wilderness if it is allowed to stay.”

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The San Francisco Bay-Delta is named in the federal Clean Water Act as one of 28 “estuaries of national significance." For over 20 years, the San Francisco Estuary Partnership has worked together with local communities and federal and state agencies to improve the health of California’s most urbanized estuary.

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Nothing could be stranger than sitting in the dark with thousands of suits and heels, watching a parade of promises to decarbonize from companies and countries large and small, reeling from the beauties of big screen rainforests and indigenous necklaces, and getting all choked up.

It was day two of the September 2018 Global Climate Action Summit in San Francisco when I felt it.

At first I wondered if I was simply starstruck. Most of us labor away trying to fix one small corner of the planet or another without seeing the likes of Harrison Ford, Al Gore, Michael Bloomberg, Van Jones, Jerry Brown – or the ministers or mayors of dozens of cities and countries – in person, on stage and at times angry enough to spit. And between these luminaries a steady stream of CEOs, corporate sustainability officers, and pension fund managers promising percentages of renewables and profits in their portfolios dedicated to the climate cause by 2020-2050.

I tried to give every speaker my full attention: the young man of Vuntut Gwichin heritage from the edge of the Yukon’s Arctic National Wildlife Refuge who pleaded with us not to enter his sacred lands with our drills and dependencies; all the women – swathed in bright patterns and head-scarfs – who kept punching their hearts. “My uncle in Uganda would take 129 years to emit the same amount of carbon as an American would in one year,” said Oxfam’s Winnie Byanyima.

“Our janitors are shutting off the lights you leave on,” said Aida Cardenas, speaking about the frontline workers she trains, mostly immigrants, who are excited to be part of climate change solutions in their new country.

The men on the stage, strutting about in feathers and pinstripes, spoke of hopes and dreams, money and power. “The notion that you can either do good or do well is a myth we have to collectively bust,” said New Jersey Governor Phil Murphy whose state is investing heavily in offshore wind farms.

But it wasn’t all these fine speeches that started the butterflies. Halfway through the second day of testimonials, it was a slight white-haired woman wrapped in an azure pashmina that pricked my tears. One minute she was on the silver screen with Alec Baldwin and the next she taking a seat on stage. She talked about trees. How trees can solve 30% of our carbon reduction problem. How we have to stop whacking them back in the Amazon and start planting them everywhere else. I couldn’t help thinking of Dr. Suess and his truffala trees. Jane Goodall, over 80, is as fierce as my Lorax. Or my daughter’s Avatar.

Analyzing my take home feeling from the event I realized it wasn’t the usual fear – killer storms, tidal waves, no food for my kids to eat on a half-baked planet – nor a newfound sense of hope – I’ve always thought nature will get along just fine without us. What I felt was relief. People were actually doing something. Doing a lot. And there was so much more we could do.

As we all pumped fists in the dark, as the presentations went on and on and on because so many people and businesses and countries wanted to STEP UP, I realized how swayed I had let myself be by the doomsday news mill.

“We must be like the river, “ said a boy from Bangladesh named Risalat Khan, who had noticed our Sierra watersheds from the plane. “We must cut through the mountain of obstacles. Let’s be the river!”

Or as Harrison Ford less poetically put it: “Let’s turn off our phones and roll up our sleeves and kick this monster’s ass.”

4th California Climate Change Assessment Blues

by Isaac Pearlman

Since California’s last state-led climate change assessment in 2012, the Golden State has experienced a litany of natural disasters. This includes four years of severe drought from 2012 to 2016, an almost non-existent Sierra Nevada snowpack in 2014-2015 costing $2.1 billion in economic losses, widespread Bay Area flooding from winter 2017 storms, and extremely large and damaging wildfires culminating with this year’s Mendocino Complex fire achieving the dubious distinction of the largest in state history. California’s most recent climate assessment, released August 27th, predicts that for the state and the Bay Area, we can expect even more in the future.

The California state government first began assessing climate impacts formally in 2006, due to an executive order by Governor Schwarzenegger. California’s latest iteration and its fourth overall, includes a dizzying array of 44 technical reports; three topical studies on climate justice, tribal and indigenous communities, and the coast and ocean; as well as nine region-specific analyses.

The results are alarming for our state’s future: an estimated four to five feet of sea level rise and loss of one to two-thirds of Southern California beaches by 2100, a 50 percent increase in wildfires over 25,000 acres, stronger and longer heat waves, and infrastructure like airports, wastewater treatment plants, rail and roadways increasingly likely to suffer flooding.

For the first time, California’s latest assessment dives into climate consequences on a regional level. Academics representing nine California regions spearheaded research and summarized the best available science on the variable heat, rain, flooding and extreme event consequences for their areas. For example, the highest local rate of sea level rise in the state is at the rapidly subsiding Humboldt Bay. In San Diego county, the most biodiverse in all of California, preserving its many fragile and endangered species is an urgent priority. Francesca Hopkins from UC Riverside found that the highest rate of childhood asthma in the state isn’t an urban smog-filled city but in the Imperial Valley, where toxic dust from Salton Sea disaster chokes communities – and will only become worse as higher temperatures and less water due to climate change dry and brittle the area.

According to the Bay Area Regional Report, since 1950 the Bay Area has already increased in temperature by 1.7 degrees Fahrenheit and local sea level is eight inches higher than it was one hundred years ago. Future climate will render the Bay Area less suitable for our evergreen redwood and fir forests, and more favorable for tolerant chaparral shrub land. The region’s seven million people and $750 billion economy (almost one-third of California’s total) is predicted to be increasingly beset by more “boom and bust” irregular wet and very dry years, punctuated by increasingly intense and damaging storms.

Unsurprisingly, according to the report the Bay Area’s intensifying housing and equity problems have a multiplier affect with climate change. As Bay Area housing spreads further north, south, and inland the result is higher transportation and energy needs for those with the fewest resources available to afford them; and acute disparity in climate vulnerability across Bay Area communities and populations.

“All Californians will likely endure more illness and be at greater risk of early death because of climate change,” bluntly states the statewide summary brochure for California’s climate assessment. “[However] vulnerable populations that already experience the greatest adverse health impacts will be disproportionately affected.”

“We’re much better at being reactive to a disaster than planning ahead,” said UC Berkeley professor and contributing author David Ackerly at a California Adaptation Forum panel in Sacramento on August 27th. “And it is vulnerable communities that suffer from those disasters. How much human suffering has to happen before it triggers the next round of activity?”

The assessment’s data is publicly available online at “Cal-adapt,” where Californians can explore projected impacts for their neighborhoods, towns, and regions.